For Good
by karmafalling
Summary: Sherlock Holmes, after the fate of attending a high-class boarding school is thrust upon him, ends up meeting someone who may change him for good. Johnlock.
1. Confusion

**Hey guys! So Ariel promised me cheesecake again so I wrote her this and something that's like a reversal of this. **_  
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**This is John and Sherlock and all those people going to Shiz, with magic and wizards and such.  
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**The other is Elphie and Galinda and all of them in London, with detectives and police and criminals and such.  
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**So this one's a bit short, but the other is much longer, and I hope you'll enjoy both. Yes, so this is for Ariel and I hope you enjoy and all that jazz.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Wicked, or anything really.  
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* * *

_There's been some confusion, for you see, my roommate is…_

…_.Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe._

_...Blonde._

"Excuse me, but what exactly do you think you're doing?" a sharp voice asked, causing John to pause in what he was doing. He paused for a second, raising an eyebrow and considering the question.

"Er…unpacking?" he replied, making it a question. He looked down to his suitcase, which was lying on the floor while he was taking things out of it. A slow sigh came from the other boy, who closed his eyes briefly before fixing John with an icy stare. "That's ridiculous," the black-haired boy snapped. "You're clearly in the wrong place.

"Sorry?" John asked, a bit offended, getting up off the ground to look the taller boy in the eye.

The other boy sighed again, rolling his eyes. "You're not supposed to be here," he stated. "Obviously," he added in an undertone, flicking a judgmental eye over John's clothing. At John's raised eyebrow, he continued. "I'm not supposed to be rooming with anyone. I was told I'd be allowed to room by myself," he finished, giving John a harsh look of distaste.

"All right," John began, crossing his arms. "But that's not my fault, and I don't know what you expect me to do about it," he raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever considered that you might be the one in the wrong place?"

"Me?" the other boy drew back, looking quite offended at the suggestion. "That's absurd. I'm never wrong, especially not over something as simple as a room number. C'mon, then, let's see your assignment, so we can get you out of here as quickly as possible."

John rolled his eyes, crouching down by his bag again and searching through it until he found the crumpled piece of paper that held his schedule and room assignment. He glanced at it quickly before holding it out. "There," he said with satisfaction, pointing at the sheet. "Room 221, Building B. Which is exactly where we are, thanks."

The other boy let out an annoyed huff, grabbing the paper from him and scanning it quickly. "Fine," he grumbled after a second. "But I'll be complaining about this to the headmaster, _John Watson_," he finished, handing the paper back to John and turning back to his own suitcase.

"Hang on, then," John said. "Don't you think it's a bit unfair that you get to know my name when I've no clue who you are?" he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

The boy looked over his shoulder from where he was unpacking, considering John. "Sherlock," he said finally. "Sherlock Holmes."


	2. Sudden

_What is this feeling…so sudden and new? …I felt the moment I laid eyes on you._

Sherlock glanced at the clock again, sighing as he saw that they still had an hour more of class to get over with. He already knew everything the teacher was saying, thank you very much. He sighed, scanning the classroom before seeing John dutifully taking notes, sitting a few seats to his left. He scowled at the fact that Molly Hooper was currently in between their seats, looking up to watch the professor. He currently had his back turned, writing on the board. Good. Sherlock grabbed his bag, swinging it over his shoulder and planting himself in the seat on John's left. "Hello," he greeted his roommate, moving John's notes away from the blonde and turning his head back to the front to watch the professor.

"Sherlock," John sighed. "What do you want?" he asked, sounding resigned.

Sherlock briefly turned his attention back to John, muttering a quick, "Bored," before slumping further in his chair with a sigh. "This is tedious," he announced, still keeping his voice down as not to upset the professor. John rolled his eyes a bit, attempting to reach across the table for his notes. "Not all of us came to Shiz knowing more than the professors, Sherlock," he pointed out, finally succeeding in getting his work back, and continuing to write. Sherlock sighed loudly, scowling as John ignored him in favor of his work. "Why are you writing this, anyway?" the black-haired boy grumbled. "I can do your work for you if you want."

"_Mr. Holmes_!"

Sherlock sat up straighter, turning his attention back to the front of the room and their professor, who had finally turned around. "Yes, Professor?" he asked innocently.

"_Pay attention_," the professor ground out, glaring at Sherlock.

"I _really_ don't see the point in that, Professor Anderson. Actually, I think I'm rather more informed than _you_ on the subject, so it's _absolutely ridiculous_ for you to expect me to _sit here_ and listen to you _babble_ when it's _clear_ you have no _clue_ what you're talking about," Sherlock finished, smirking at the professor.

"Headmaster Lestrade's office! Now!" Professor Anderson yelled dropping his chalk and pulling the door open. He held it there as Sherlock collected his things, muttering a quick goodbye to John and walking out the door. Professor Anderson slammed the door behind Sherlock, walking back to the board and continuing the lesson.

* * *

"Back again?" the secretary asked, raising her eyebrows at Sherlock as he sat down to wait for the headmaster.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, gritting his teeth and looking away from her.

"Not a surprise, that," she stated. "You're nothing but trouble, you are."

"Yes, thank you for your opinion, Sally," he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping in his chair.

"It's _Ms. Donovan_!" she exclaimed, glaring spitefully. He pretended not to care, though getting under her skin was always satisfying.

The two of them spent the next ten minutes ignoring one another, staring at opposite walls and sending mental hatred back and forth. Finally, the door to the headmaster's office opened, and the headmaster walked out, along with a tall boy who happened to be in most of Sherlock's classes. "Now, no more fighting, Moran, you got that? You're a good kid; don't mess that up," the headmaster told the boy, clapping him on the shoulder.

Moran rolled his eyes, turning to leave before he spotted Sherlock. He nodded, acknowledging the other boy. "Sherlock," he greeted him.

"Sebastian," Sherlock returned, standing up and heading into the headmaster's office as Sebastian turned to leave once again.

"Sit down, Holmes," the headmaster sighed, taking a sip of his drink before looking through some papers on his desk. "What was it this time, then?" he asked, not even looking up.

"I was _talking_," Sherlock grumbled. "I didn't _do _anything."

"And by talking, you mean disrespecting your professor, don't you?" the headmaster asked, glancing at Sherlock for a moment before returning his attention to the pile of papers.

"_No_, Headmaster Lestrade," Sherlock insisted. "I was merely talking. Not even to him! He interrupted me and criticized me for talking, so I informed him that his teaching was deplorable and his knowledge inferior," Sherlock finished smoothly, raising an eyebrow.

Headmaster Lestrade finally looked up at this news, sighing and scrubbing a hand over his face before taking a deep breath. "Sherlock," he reprimanded. "For the _millionth_ time, you _do not _insult your _professors_."

"They insult me by calling themselves adequate teachers," Sherlock snapped, crossing his arms petulantly.

The headmaster sighed, retrieving Sherlock's file from beside his desk. "Talking, then?" he asked, beginning to write before pausing. "To who, exactly?" he asked looking quite confused.

Sherlock paused for a moment, not understanding the importance of the question. "John," he answered slowly, looking curiously at Headmaster Lestrade.

"Your roommate?" the headmaster asked, sounding surprised. "You two are…friends, then?"

"Yes, I suppose," Sherlock responded, still wondering what the significance of this conversation was.

The headmaster looked down, studying his sheet of paper before crumpling it up and tossing it in the bin. "All right," he started, sighing a bit. "I'm letting you off with a warning this time," he stated, closing Sherlock's file and returning it to its previous position. "But _do not _disrespect any more professors, Sherlock, I mean it!" he finished, pointing a finger at Sherlock.

"Yes, sir," the boy responded, a bit confused still.

"Out."

"Goodbye, sir."

* * *

John looked up from his studying as Sherlock entered the room. "Detention?" he asked casually.

"Actually, no," Sherlock responded, dropping his things on John's bed and sitting next to the other boy.

"No?" John asked, sounding shocked.

"I got off with a warning," Sherlock shrugged casually, although inwardly attempting to determine the headmaster's motive.

"All right, then," John shrugged as well, scooting a bit closer to Sherlock. "You can help me out, then, can't you?"

Sherlock nodded, moving closer as well and beginning to explain the coursework to John. It was incredibly easy material, meaning that he had plenty of time to think while he talked. To think about why the headmaster hadn't punished him, or why Ms. Donovan thought she had any authority, or why Professor Anderson was _just so_ annoying. And, of course, why John _wasn't._ Logically, Sherlock knew that John was perfectly normal. Average intelligence, completely ordinary. Yet, every time he thought those words, his brain simply told him he was _wrong._

Which irked him. Greatly. No matter how many unobservant things John said, or how ordinary he was, he simply couldn't seem to get on Sherlock's nerves. Which was, in a way, getting on Sherlock's nerves. It was all very confusing. That got on his nerves as well. He'd never met someone who could be so very _normal_ and yet such a conundrum all at once, which was why John messed with his head so much. At least, that's what he was trying to convince himself. Because there was absolutely _no way_ that _Sherlock Holmes_ had a _crush._ That simply didn't happen. And if John, coincidentally, happened to make him feel different than anyone else had, that was_ clearly_ just a result of their friendship.


	3. Changed

_Who can say if I've been changed for the better?_

_But, because I knew you, I have been changed for good._

"You don't have to _go_, idiot," John insisted, crossing his arms and glaring from across the room.

"I do, though," Sherlock responded easily. "Surely even you can see that?"

John sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and walking a few steps closer. "It'll blow over," he claimed, shaking his head at the other boy. "You don't have to _leave._ Where will you go?"

"Anywhere," Sherlock vowed, shaking his own head. "I can't stay. Not when I know what's finally going on. I honestly can't believe it's taken me this long to find out," he added, walking closer to John.

"Just because the Wizard's not who you thought…" John began.

"He's evil, John. Not incompetent, not a well-meaning man, not a figurehead. He's completely evil, and we've given him complete control of Oz," Sherlock cut across John's words. "And of course _Mycroft _had to be involved. He knew all along. He was _helping _him."

"Don't leave because of this," John protested, taking the final steps to reach where Sherlock stood. "Please," he added.

"I have to," Sherlock attempted to smile, but it was completely without warmth. He sighed instead, looking John in the eyes. "John Watson. You are _completely _ordinary," he said.

"Thanks, mate," John snorted, looking a bit confused.

"No," Sherlock continued. "You're not, though. It took me so long to figure it out…Just because you seem ordinary doesn't mean you _are_," he turned his head to the side, studying John. "I don't know how to explain it," he shook his head, "but you've…changed me. No one's ever done _that_ before. You made me love you," he added, continuing to speak, despite John's look of surprise. "I couldn't believe it. I still can't figure out if that's a strength or weakness, but, either way, you've changed me. Forever. And I wouldn't change that if I could."

"Sherlock, please don-" John begged, knowing that this was how Sherlock was choosing to say goodbye.

"I have to go. I'm sorry," he said, looking genuinely sorry for once in his life. "I'll come back some day," he promised. "You'll see." Sherlock smiled half-heartedly, starting to fade, while John gasped. The spell was starting its work. Sherlock had set it up so that he wouldn't be able to change his mind and stay after his conversation with John.

"Goodbye, John," he waved, still fading. "I love you," he added, right before he disappeared.

"No!" John yelled, seeing Sherlock gone. "You can't just-you idiot, why..?" he slumped against a wall, still staring at the spot where Sherlock had vanished and remembering his words. _'I'll come back some day. You'll see.'_

Hopefully, he would.


End file.
